


Paper Skin

by Hestia



Series: Witcher headcanons and shorts [4]
Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Fluff, M/M, Short Story, Soulmate-Identifying Marks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-01
Updated: 2020-06-01
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:48:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24489250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hestia/pseuds/Hestia
Summary: Jaskier is delighted to have a soul mark!Geralt is less so, the words are terrible...Part of a series but totally stand alone as usual.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: Witcher headcanons and shorts [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1769020
Comments: 18
Kudos: 396





	Paper Skin

Jaskier was born with his mark so he knows his soulmate is older than him and they are already somewhere in the world. It’s a short one, curling around the base of his fingers, on his left palm. His mark is small and discreet but easy to look at. He spends hours and hours stroking it, wondering what kind of person his soulmate is, whispering theories and dreams to himself at night. Sometimes, when he’s nervous, he strokes it with his thumb without even thinking or looking at it. This tiny connection to his soulmate makes him feel calmer and it doesn’t look like he’s fidgeting too much. Something his father has informed him is very unbecoming of a Viscount and for which he’s been reprimanded before.

Jaskier is still delighted even if the mark is small because his mark says "I'm here to drink alone". It’s a neat script, a rich dark on his creamy skin and without ornament. And it's perfect. His soulmate is _mysterious._ How lovely! There's obviously a story behind those words and Jaskier loves stories! He cannot wait to meet his soulmate and leaves home as soon as he can. First for Oxenfurt, then to travel the Continent. He's not going to stay idle and wait for his soulmate to find him! Of course not, he’ll find them somewhere exciting! But in the meantime, he’s going to travel to have stories to tell his mysterious soulmate.

Geralt is born without a mark. He learns about them when he’s five years old and cries for hours and hours in his mother’s arm because it breaks his little heart that he doesn’t have one. He wants a mark so bad. He’s obviously meant to have a soulmate he can love and protect always. This is very wrong. His mother doesn’t tell him marks only appear when your soulmate is born. Not long after, his mother abandons him to a life of horrors and as he grows and learns about his new life, he’s glad he doesn’t have one. He wouldn’t want to subject himself on a poor innocent soul. For decades, he lives his life with the vague memory of what a mark could have meant to him. Almost no Witcher has one and for once he’s not one of the special ones. He’s content like this, he tells himself. He doesn’t need a mark and all the complication that would come with one. It’s for the best. 

He’s sparing Eskel one beautiful summer morning when it happens. A few of the Wolves have a tradition to meet for the summer solstice. They say it’s because Fae folks tend to go out more with all the ceremonies and they could get plenty of work between them but really the Fae never bother anybody and they just want to have an excuse and get drunk one night together.

They are practising using swords with their strong hand tied behind them, in case they get injured and have to use their weaker arm. It’s a good practice and Eskel can’t use signs like this so it makes things even. They aren’t even doing it seriously, it’s hot already even without their shirts on. After a few hours, they get tired (Geralt is stronger but Eskel doesn’t make it easy) and they decide to lie on the inviting fresh grass. There are five other Witchers in their groups, they are safe from anything if they want to rest a little while. Geralt is on his back, eyes closed and listening to Eskel’s latest adventures when his brother suddenly grabs his wrist and pulls it towards him. Geralt immediately opens his eyes and sits, ready to fight whatever spooked Eskel. But his brother has not let go of his wrist and can’t take his eyes off it. 

On his pale skin, sharp dark words are wrapping themselves around his left forearms, descending slowly from his elbow to end right on the inside of his wrist, just under his thumb. They both sit like this, unmoving for a few minutes, Geralt’s entire forearm resting on Eskel’s lap. Geralt doesn’t dare to touch the mark, horrified, but when the words seem to have settled, Eskel strokes them gently, almost as if to smooth them.

“Does it hurt?” he asks gently.

Geralt shakes his head to say no. He doesn’t feel it. Maybe because of his mutation, maybe because marks aren’t supposed to be painful, he doesn’t know. But it feels nice when Eskel doesn’t stop stroking it anyway.

“The moon and the Sun”, he whispers with a tiny smile. “Your soulmate is a summer child” he adds when Geralt looks at him inquisitively. He doesn’t know what to feel. He doesn’t want this. He frowns at the huge tattoo covering his entire forearm. There’s plenty of words and flowers seem to come out of the words in a beautifully natural way. It’s _grandiose_ and Geralt thinks such a beautiful script doesn’t belong on him. The dark letters and yellow buttercups contrasting impossibly with his pale skin. His soulmate is too soft to ever survive Geralt.

“Fuck this thing is huge, you’re soulmate is one hell of a talker”, Eskel adds, moving Geralt’s arm one way then another to be able to see everything. “Do you want me to read it to you?” he offers. Geralt shakes his head no. It feels like something he should discover in private and Eskel doesn’t need words to understand this. He gives him back his arm gently, then gets up and leaves to find the others without pause. Geralt doesn’t have to ask him for privacy.

After Eskel leaves, it takes Geralt a good half hour to actually read it. He’s terrified. He doesn’t want a soulmate. What will he do with one? His life is not meant for other people to share. But then he actually read the words and what the hell is this? Geralt is absolutely furious when he gets to the end.

His soulmate can’t be subjecting him to so many terrible words!

_You think you’re safe. Without a care. But here in Posada. You’d be wise to beware. The pike with the spike. That lurks in your drawers. Or the flying drake. That will fill you with horror. Need Old Nan the Hag. To stir up a potion. So that your lady. Might get an abortion_

No. This is not what will be written for the rest of his life on Geralt’s skin, no way. Geralt swears whoever his soulmate is, he's going to kill them as soon as he sees them for making him walk his entire life with a flowery text about sex and abortions. That one just irks him so bad. It takes him another half hour to find the other Witchers and demand they all throw themselves at him at the same time. He needs to let out some steam. Lambert is delighted to oblige.

How the fuck will his soulmate manage to say all this in one breath his beyond Geralt at first. But after he had a few years to ponder this, Geralt think it might be a song and oh Gods please not a singer, fuck no they'll never shut up! He quickly decides to never, ever ever show his face in fucking Posada ever again.

Of course, eighteen years after his mark appeared, Roach loses a shoe and he has no choice but to stop in that damn city. It has to be replaced or she could get injured and even with the horrible possibility of finding his soulmate there (he still doesn't need anybody thank you very much, least of all the damn love of his life) he won't risk her safety. The inn looks sufficiently shabby for his flowery soulmate to never want to put a toe in it so he settled comfortably in a corner. There’s some young bard singing something. The voice is very nice and the guy looks soft and gorgeous. He might investigate that later, but Geralt doesn’t care to actually listen to the songs right now. He’s tired, it’s been a few hard days and he just wants to have an ale, get Roach back on the road and leave this cursed city as soon as possible. The farrier said he’d be a few hours but Geralt should be safe until then. He takes his ale and settles in a dark corner. The voice is quite pleasing after a drink and now that Geralt is somewhat a little more relaxed, he actually listens to the song the gorgeous bard is singing from across the room.

_You think you’re safe. Without a care…_

FUCK!


End file.
